Nightmares
by Beth0987
Summary: In a job where nightmares are part of the business, the CSIs find their worst are being acted out in front of them. But who is the mysterious killer, and how does he know their darkest secrets?
1. Where Dreaming Ends

My first multichapter Vegas fic. Feedback is greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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"Yeah, well, it's always been like that,"

Two men, sitting at a bar. One staring into his drink as if it contained the secrets of the universe, the other writing something in a small notebook. Working out how much this was costing him, he had said once when asked about it. The other man wasn't convinced, but didn't say anything. The guy always bought him a drink or three, so what if he was a bit odd?

The man glanced up from his notebook long enough to glance at the clock.

"Shouldn't you be getting to work?"

"I'm late! See ya tomorrow, maybe,"

"I'm always here. You know that," On his way out, the other tried to glance in the notebook, but it was already covered.

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_Idiot. _

Most people are idiots, really, but he took the cake. So happy to tell me everything I want to know, I only have to do a little careful prodding for the most intimate details. This one was the easiest to arrange. A battered woman, there are more of them in Vegas than there are stars. Such simple… pleasures.

I paid for my drink, even though I hadn't really drunk it. I was too preoccupied. My companion had run up quite a bill, but it was worth it. This was just too perfect.

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The woman stared blankly up at the sky, if staring was possible with both eyes nearly swollen shut. She had been so badly beaten it was almost impossible to see a face in the grotesque mangling of vaguely human features.

Sara shivered, and knelt down beside the corpse.

"She was beaten to death," she muttered, more to herself then Gil, who was standing a few feet away, looking around.

"She was killed here," The young police officer who had been made to watch the body was nearly as pale as the body, and kept swallowing as if he was going to be sick. Sara resisted the urge to say duh. No drag marks, blood smeared everywhere…

"Any evidence yet?" asked Gil, crouching down next to her and frowning intently at the body. He reached out with a gloved fingertip and touched the swollen cheek.

"Still warm. Our guy can't have got far,"

"Shall I alert the other officers, sir?"

"For what? Detain every person within fifty miles of here for questioning?" Gil raised an eyebrow at the officer, who looked like a rabbit caught in headlights, and continued. "Until we get some evidence, it could be anybody. For all I know, you killed her then called it in,"

"No, sir, I could never-," Gil raised a hand, and he closed his mouth instantly.

"What's your name?"

"Adam Reynolds, sir,"

"What does this look like to you, Adam?"

"A tyre mark?" His face brightened. "He left by car!"

Gil shook his head pityingly. Did they just let anyone into the force these days?

"No, that mark runs under the body, which means unless he drove around a bit first before leaving that was there before,"

"Oh,"

"This was a domestic," said Sara, still staring at the woman's battered face.

"I thought I taught you better than that, Sara. We don't know for sure,"

"Sir? They're ready to take the body,"

Sara nodded to show she was all done. There wasn't really any evidence. She had found a recent-looking stain on the woman's jacket, and some stray hairs trapped in a buttonhole, but not much else.

"Take her away, Adam,"

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_That was too easy. The next, however, proves a little more complicated. Maybe I will have a challenge. I will enjoy that. _

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Hodges glanced up from his work as the door opened. Gil walked in, coming over to the body for a moment before going to stare at the X-rays of her face that were pinned to the wall.

"What have you got?"

"In a case like this, it would be easier for me to count what wasn't broken," Hodges bent over the body on the table. "Multiple fractures to ribs, arms, legs, face, you name it, it's broken. Cause of death, massive internal bleeding,"

"Find anything interesting?"

"Yeah. It's a bit weird though," He gestured to a tray filled with various odds and ends. "It's as if someone put the strangest things he could think of on a body, just to confuse us,"

"Such as?"

"A yo-yo in her shoe, a white powder that turned out to be icing sugar in her hair. That stain on her jacket was a mixture of hair conditioner and curry sauce,"

"It seems they have a sense of humour. Did you identify her?"

"Teresa White. Seven hospital stays in the last three months, all for various fractures, bad cuts, burns etc. The X-rays show many bruises and healed breaks as well,"

"What's her address?"

"227 Marsh Street,"

"Thanks,"

Gil left without another word.

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Nick was going back to work after a coffee break when he saw Sara in another room, staring moodily at something on the table. She was so absorbed in it she didn't seem to notice him come in.

He looked over her shoulder at the photo that held her attention so effectively.

"Ouch," he said to himself when he saw the woman in it. This must be the case Sara was working on with Gil. Sara jumped, her head snapping round to see who it was. She relaxed when she saw Nick, but didn't look any happier.

"Someone broke nearly every bone in her body. They put all these weird things on her like… like… it's just some sick game to him. Like he just wants to see us running around in circles trying to find him, following dead leads…" She sighed, and returned to staring at the photos. "This wasn't the first time either. They were always getting domestic disturbance calls to her house. I went to tell her husband she was dead. I don't think he even noticed. He was high on something,"

"Sara… I'm sure you and Gil can find this guy. He's got to have left something useful behind with all the… stuff,"

"If he has, I can't find it," Sara stood up, and hit the desk so suddenly Nick jumped. "There's nothing I can do, I know, I just feel so useless,"

"Nick?" Greg's head appeared at the door. "I think you might want to see this,"

"I've got to go,"

"Bye," Sara had sat back down. Nick followed Greg out, hoping she wouldn't stay there too long. Maybe he could talk to Gil, get someone else to take this case. It seemed like Sara's worst nightmare.

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_They're still puzzling over that other woman. What a pity. I thought they were smarter than that. Unfortunately, there is no time to waste. Things will go as planned. But first, I have a very special person to meet._


	2. Arachnophobia

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Please R+R!

Re. the Hodges thing: My bad. I'll sort it out later.

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"She tries to pretend she's so tough, but…"

"But?" The prompt was gentle, carefully said so it didn't make him suspicious.

"No, she'd kill me if I told you,"

"How would she ever find out?" Laughing to calm him down, the man put his pencil against the paper of his notebook again.

"I guess… She really doesn't like spiders. I'm not too great with them myself, but…" he trailed off, staring at the notebook. "Wat'cha writing?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter," The tiny book was carefully whisked away to a pocket. For some reason the man was always wearing black leather gloves. Perhaps he thought it looked cool.

"Anyway, I'd better go home. Get some rest before work,"

"You do that,"

As usual the gloved man paid for the drinks and left shortly after.

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_This one is slightly harder. A desperate woman is easy to lure away from her home, but a child as young as my target isn't. Especially from a mother as protective as this one, but I suppose that can't be helped. Just any child wouldn't do, not for this game. _

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Catherine tried to comfort the hysterical woman sitting next to her, but it wasn't working. All that she was likely to get any time soon was another box of tissues.

"My… precious… baby… Who would _do_ that? Who could?" The woman looked at her desperately, as if she knew.

"There are some very sick people out there, Ms Mackenzie," replied Catherine. "And it's my job to try and catch them,"

"You will… You will find her, won't you? She's all I have left in the world,"

"I know how you feel. I'm a mom too," Catherine tried to conceal her impatience. "Do you have any pictures of Eve? Then I could give her description to the officers to help them find her,"

"Yes, in that drawer," Mrs Mackenzie gestured to a large drawer in her desk. Catherine opened it, to find it full of pictures of a little girl. One that looked very like Linsey.

"She was always so beautiful…" Catherine left her staring into the drawer with a misty smile on her face, not wanting to pull her back to reality.

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_So helpless. Such a pity to kill such a pretty girl, but I am not the one to provide the nightmares. With my little eight-legged friends, that's already there._

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It was a scene from hell.

They were a little way out into the desert, a place where nothing grew, not even the scrubby brush that could be found elsewhere. The dust that lay in a thin layer over the hard-baked earth was stirred up a little by the wind, promising to have already removed any tracks or footprints.

In the centre of this desolate spot lay a small lump covered in a thin sheet of cotton that had probably once been white, but was now a brownish gray.

Sitting on top of the sheet like the king of the castle as a large, fat tarantula.

Catherine swallowed hard, and strode over to the tiny lump before she could think too hard about what she was doing. She took a couple of pictures of the sheet, spider and marks in the dust that might have been left by whoever dumped this sheet, but was probably a stray rock or bird.

With nothing left to waste her time on, Catherine took a deep breath and gripped the edge of the sheet.

One… Two… Three…

She pulled the sheet back like a magician revealing his last trick. There was nothing fanciful about this though. This was reality, as grim as it got.

She was staring into the face of Eve Mackenzie. She couldn't really say eyes, as where the girl's eyes had been there were only empty sockets. Another tarantula sat on Eve's chin, looking strangely smug for a spider.

Catherine did something she'd never done before, at least because of a dead body. She screamed.

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"How're you doing?" asked Gil, sitting down next to Sara in the break room. She had dark circles under her eyes, and probably hadn't stopped working all day. From the smell of the coffee she was drinking, Greg had given her a bit of his 'secret' stash.

"I've got nothing. Yo-yo, bought at a cheap toy store for cash, no records. Standard confectioner's icing sugar dusted in her hair that could have been bought anywhere. We got a brand for the conditioner, but it doesn't mean anything. Beautiful hair products are sold everywhere. Curry sauce… Just a plain old sauce, probably cooked up by the guy at home from a recipe in a thousand books. We're no closer to catching this guy than we were yesterday,"

For a moment Sara looked like she was going to cry, but to Gil's relief she didn't.

"Teresa White had a horrible life, and we can't even honour her memory by finding her killer,"

"No, Sara," said Gil quietly, sounding a lot more confident than he really felt. "We will catch this guy. I promise. Now go home and get some rest. You're no good to anyone falling over exhausted,"

She gave him a small smile. "I guess. I'll be back later,"

"I'll be counting on it,"

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"So, Doc, what have you got?" Catherine gently stroked the little girl's cheek. Linsey had looked like this only a year or so ago. At least the coroner had been able to clean her up a bit, washing the dust off her face and carefully closing the eyelids to hide the horror that lay behind them.

"Poor girl," he replied quietly. "Cause of death was strangulation, so she was dead before the spiders got to her. Did you see Gil about the species?"

"He's got an idea, but he says he needs some time,"

"Good. Before death she was raped multiple times, which probably caused this bruising,"

Catherine struggled to control a surge of anger. What had been done to this girl was beyond sick.

Somewhere, he was waiting. And when she found him, he would pay.

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_That wasn't quite as enjoyable as last time. Maybe it was because I had to find a man willing to commit nightmarish acts on that girl, which was disturbingly easy. I wouldn't have done it if it wasn't part of the act._

_I have to get it right. Anything less than perfection is failure._


	3. Hate Crime

I know I haven't updated this fic in ages, it's just so horribly hard to write and I'm very lazy. This chapter was originally two very short ones, but it kind of became one after a while. It's not as good as I would like but trying to rewrite it would take me even longer, so sorry about that. Please R+R!

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"Can't stop long tonight, I've got to go to work in a bit,"

The bar was busy, as it usually was in the early evening.

"What a pity. I was looking forward to talking to you,"

"No, I'm later than I thought. Seriously, I've got to go!"

"Maybe later then,"

"Yeah. Bye!"

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"Got the results yet Greg?" Catherine asked. He had agreed to do this job quickly for her when he had found out what had happened.

"Got a match on the semen found in Eve Mackenzie," he handed her a printout, without any of the usual preamble.

"Tony Hill…" She had heard that name before somewhere.

"Registered sex offender. Got released from jail on parole a few months ago,"

"I'll pay Mr Hill a visit,"

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"Yeah?" The man who answered the door looked like he had just got out of bed.

"CSI Willows, Las Vegas crime lab. Can I ask you a few questions?"

"Yeah, why not. Come in then," Catherine followed him into an apartment that smelt of stale beer and cigarettes.

"You're Tony Hill, am I right?"

"Yeah, that's me,"

"The sex offender?"

"That was a long time ago. I don't do that stuff any more,"

"Somehow I don't believe you. We found your DNA in the body of a young girl yesterday. You raped and killed her, didn't you?"

"No!" he looked so shocked Catherine could almost believe him for a second. But just one.

"Some guy brought her round here. At first I told him where to go, you know, I don't do that now. But he offered me a thousand dollars, said there was no way the cops'd know…" Catherine was surprised to see a tear roll down his cheek. "I'm busted, right?"

"Yeah, you are,"

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_Tony Hill has been arrested. That lowlife deserved it. He was a criminal._

_I know what you're thinking. What am I?_

_I'm an artist. If you don't mind the needless dramatics, an artist of revenge._

_--------------------------_

Gil slowly got out of the car, suppressing a sigh. Sara was standing at the other end of the dusty car park, staring at the spot where they had found Teresa.

"Admiring the view?"

He was rewarded with a shaky grin.

"Not much to admire really," She frowned again. "What if we never find him, Gil? What if he just… walks away?"

"He won't,"

Sara laughed bitterly.

"Come on. You've seen the evidence. It's leading us round in circles,"

"You never used to be this pessimistic,"

"I never used to be this bad at my job,"

"No-one could have done any better. Sometimes we just get a killer who's smarter than us,"

"No-one's smarter than you,"

"You'd be surprised,"

"Hey, what's that?" Sara knelt next to an almost imperceptible mark near the bushes. "Looks like tyre marks,"

"How did we miss that?"

"I don't think we did… they come round here and under where the body was,"

"We got a sample of that, right?"

"Of course… You think that's the killer's car?"

"Maybe,"

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"Mrs Mackenzie?" The crying woman in the lobby looked up for a second, staring blankly at Catherine for a few seconds before recognising her.

"You phoned me, said it was something to do with Eve…" Catherine was relieved she hadn't had to be the one to tell this woman her daughter was dead.

"We've got her belongings, the things we found on her body,"

It wasn't much really. Two cents, a stone with glittery bits in and a shiny red plastic yo-yo.

"This… This wasn't my daughter's,"

"Excuse me?"

"My little Eve, she hated yo-yos. Never played with them,"

Catherine stared. This was still in its plastic bag, probably hadn't been touched by anyone except people wearing gloves…

She ran out of the room, nearly knocking Greg over.

"Whoa! What's the rush?"

"Got to get to the fingerprint lab," Cathrine carried on for a bit, then turned back. "Greg, there's a lady in the lobby whose daughter just died. Go talk to her for me, I'll be back in about half an hour,"

"Oh, _thanks_,"

But she was already gone.

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_They're getting closer to finding the link. Time for another piece of the puzzle._

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"Have you ever felt, like, it's all just a dream and you're gonna wake up but…" His forehead wrinkled as he tried to recall the rest of his sentence.

The pencil glided smoothly across paper. "Do go on…"

"Hey, haven't you been drinkin' that for the last… the last…"

"Never mind that,"

"No, I do mind," The drunk man made a grab for the notebook, fingers touching it for a few seconds before it was snatched away "You sit here writing that stuff down and looking all mysterious and you're… you're… not,"

The man stood up, coldness radiating off him.

"This conversation is over," He turned to the door. "Find your own way home,"

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"Sara," Gil came up behind her, but this barely surprised her anymore. A picture of a bright red sports car was shoved in front of her nose.

"I didn't realise you were into this sort of car,"

"I'm not. But if I found one I would certainly like to process it,"

"You mean…" She stared at him open-mouthed.

"This is the car we're looking for,"

"Cool,"

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_This is the one I was most looking forward to. For weeks I've been waiting, making little suggestions, being in all the right places, making things happen… This is the night. I'm sure of it._

_All it takes is one little gunshot._

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Warrick set his kit down next to the body, taking care not to disturb any of the fine grains around it.

"What happened?"

"Girl was coming home from work, found the body," Brass gestured to a girl sitting on the kerb the other side of the street, crying. Nick was saying something to her, but he couldn't hear it.

"OK,"

He looked at the body. It was a boy, about fourteen or fifteen, with a face so badly burned Warrick couldn't tell what colour his skin was. He had been shot once in the back of the head, but there were bruises visible through rips in his shirt.

"Ouch," Nick gently turned the boy's head so he could get a better look at the burns.

"Poor kid," agreed Warrick. "How do you think he got these?"

"Looks chemical," Nick ran a swab down the swollen cheek. "Acid?"

"Maybe,"

"Did you get a sample of that stuff?" Nick pointed to the white powder that was scattered liberally around the body. Warrick gave him a look that would have blistered paint.

"Had to ask… What'd she say?" The last part was directed at Brass, who had come over.

"She says she was coming back from the kebab place round the corner. She always uses this street as a shortcut. Found the body, called 911 on her cellphone,"

"Sounds right,"

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There were no fingerprints on the yo-yo, not even Eve's.

Catherine ran a hand through her hair. She was exhausted, and just wanted to get home. But she couldn't leave this. Not while that guy was till out there.

A shadow moved past the door. She turned round, but it was only Greg, holding a cup of coffee and grinning broadly.

"Getting paranoid in your old age?"

"If you didn't have this I'd kill you," she replied, grabbing the cup and gulping down half of it. She instantly regretted this when she realised how hot it was.

"How did you know that wasn't mine?"

"Easy," Catherine smiled back at him. "You'd be using the clown mug,"

He scowled and left, slamming the door behind him but not before she heard him mutter,

"I like that mug,"

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"I've had too many children on the table this week,"

The coroner looked down mournfully at the boy.

"What happened to him?" Warrick pretended to be very interested in the skull X-rays on the wall, anything to avoid looking at that swollen face.

"Second degree facial burns, caused by some chemical substance. Multiple lacerations to the torso and arms, covered in bruises… He was badly beaten. And all before this…" He tilted the boy's head so the hole, which had before been covered in crusted blood, was visible. "Single gunshot wound to the back of the head. I got the bullet out for you,"

Warrick accepted the small plastic bag. "Thanks. Do we know who he is?"

"Not yet,"

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Gil was getting tired of seeing his CSIs on the verge of tears over a case. It had happened a lot lately, mainly to Sara while she was working on Teresa White's murder, but never before to Catherine.

"What happened?"

"There's no evidence, I can't think of any other leads to follow… It's like a case years old, even though it only happened two days ago,"

"Why don't you take a break, come back later? It's worth a try,"

"Oh. OK,"

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_One part down, one to go. There will be a very nasty surprise in the morning._

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Ring ring.

"Grissom,"

"You know that car you put a search out for? We found one that might be it,"

"Where?"

"Few miles east of the city. Found abandoned, blood on the front seat. No-one's touched it; we knew you'd want the first look,"

"I'm on my way,"

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_I love my gloves. So simple, but so good at fooling CSI tests. I personally made sure there was not a shred of my clothing or DNA it that car, but I left a little something for my informant. A thank you present, perhaps. _

_The expense? I can afford it. Anything would be worth this._

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A single man in a bar. He sits at one of the tables, orders a drink.

"How're you gonna pay for that?"

"I don't know,"

"At least give me your name,"

"Why?"

"'Cos in an hour or two you might not remember,"

"Sanders. Greg Sanders,"


	4. Kickstart

I am starting to hate this fic, and I am fairly sure it hates me.

Anyway, on with the show!

Please R+R!

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The bar was closed for refurbishments.

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"Hey, Gris, I've got something!"

"What is it?"

Sara and Gil had been processing the car for nearly an hour and so far had come up with two hairs, a smattering of white powder and a candy necklace. They had been immediately sent to Trace, but so far no results.

Sara held up a small notebook, with what looked like hairs trapped in it.

"Get that to DNA right now. I don't think Greg's busy; get him to do it,"

"Technically he's not a lab tech anymore,"

"I'm his boss; he's whatever I tell him to be,"

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"Greg?"

Greg was sat on a chair in the corner of the lab, sipping a cup of coffee. He looked as if he hadn't slept in ages.

"Yeah?"

"Grissom says to a DNA test on this," Sara held out the hairs and notebook, trapped in a plastic bag. "Greg. Greg?"

Greg, who had been happily drinking a cup of coffee, was staring at the notebook looking as if it would not just bite but savagely rip him limb from limb.

"You ok?"

"… I'm- I'm fine. Just… would you please just… go?"

"Ok," With a last puzzled glance, Sara walked off.

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_This can't be happening. This CANNOT be happening. _

Greg still hadn't touched the notebook. It just lay there, looking small and insignificant but it was laughing at him.

_OhmygodI'mgoingtojailThey'llthinkitwasme…_

He pulled on a pair of gloves and delicately opened the notebook. The pages were covered in neat writing, but what he read chilled him to the core.

_Catherine Willows_

_-Has a daughter called Lindsey_

_-Likes children/ child abuse?_

_-Rape?_

_Can't read fingerprints if the print is smudged_

_Sara Sidle_

_-Violence against women_

_-Domestic abuse?_

All of the pages were covered in similar notes, about the other CSIs, or forensics, or even locations that had recently been involved in a crime. And the worst part was he, Greg Sanders, recently made a CSI, had told him all of it. Every detail of how he could create a scene from his friends' worst nightmares. It was all his fault.

"I'm… I'm sorry,"

No-one could hear him. It didn't even make him feel any better.

This guy… he was beyond crazy. He was twisted.

He was very shortly going to be confronted by a very angry Greg.

But _that_ little scene is going to be saved for the next chapter.

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The body had been dumped near a wall, next to an overflowing dumpster. Like last night's rubbish. Nick could see even from this distance the white crystals scattered liberally around the body, and felt sick. He was glad Warrick wasn't with him on this one.

This victim was a girl in her late teens. Beneath the mass of bruises and burns covering her face, she looked as if she might have been pretty. The halo of blood soaking through her long hair showed the same method of killing as the boy. Nick leant down and pulled one of her sleeves down, as her hands were nearly as badly burned as her face. This girl was black, too.

"Just what we need," he muttered to himself, kneeling down next to her. The boy hadn't been a random killing. This was the start of something, something serious.

On top of everything else, Nick wasn't sure they could manage.

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_Those dear boys from that racist group were so happy to oblige my little requests. I'll have to find some way of calming them down soon though, I don't want a race war. One or two bodies will be enough to get my point across to Mr. Brown. What an appropriate name. Wonderfully ironic, just the way I like things. _

_Well, maybe three. I'm enjoying this far too much, really._

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"Oh my god…"

Warrick Brown had seen a lot of things as a CSI. He had seen bodies dismembered, hacked up, placed in all sorts of weird places. He thought, privately, he had seen it all. Most of it, anyway.

But never in his life had he seen anything like this. It was a sight he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy.

The sad, twisted mass of burned flesh in front of him was barely recognisable as what it had once been.

It was a baby.

"Whoever these guys are, they're getting worse," Brass said, looking over Warrick's shoulder.

"Yeah…"

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Eve Mackenzie's mother had asked Catherine to come to her funeral.

There was not going to be an open coffin, of course. No-one wanted to see the blank holes where the eyes had been removed. The coffin was completely covered in flowers, and there were many more people than Mrs. Mackenzie had expected. There had even been a photographer from the paper there, until someone threw him out.

Catherine felt incredibly uncomfortable. The people around her were all crying, or walking around blankly, in a daze.

"Ms. Willows?"

"Yes?"

It was Mrs. Mackenzie. She was wearing a long black dress, and her eyes were very red.

"I just wanted to say… Please don't feel bad about not finding Eve's… I'm sure you did your best,"

"I…"

Catherine didn't know what to say. 'Yes, I did, and it wasn't good enough.'? 'Well, those criminals are just getting smarter!'? Everything seemed too flippant, too wrong… Not for a little girl's funeral.

She was saved from having to answer when another woman came over and put her arm round Mrs Mackenzie's shoulders. It was about to start.

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Sara knocked on the door of Gil's office.

"Come in,"

"Hi," She opened the door and took a step in. "Have you seen Greg? I can't find him anywhere,"

"He should be processing that notebook. Haven't you got the results by now?"

"No,"

"Oh. I don't know then,"

"Ok,"

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"Greg?"

She opened the door. The lab was empty. The notebook was lying on the table, almost glowing red against the grey. There was a pair of gloves next to it, as if someone had pulled them off in a hurry.

Sara couldn't resist it. Pulling on another pair, she carefully opened the first page.

_Catherine Willows_

_-Has a daughter called Lindsey_

_-Likes children/ child abuse?_

_-Rape?_

_Can't read fingerprints if the print is smudged_

_Sara Sidle_

_-Violence against women_

_-Domestic abuse?_

"Oh my God…"

She picked up the notebook and ran back to Gil's office.

"I think you should see this…."


End file.
